The Godling Chronicles

by Brian D. Anderson

  It was a temple dedicated to the Creator Herself. An elf temple.

  Linis had to consciously prevent himself from walking closer. It was a truly magnificent sight, more so than any he had seen. Most elf temples had been withered away by time. Either that, or they were small structures hidden well away from human eyes.

  “A sight to behold, is it not?”

  Linis turned to see a young elf girl standing to his right. She was clad in a human-style dress, though her hair was tied and woven in a series of braids of the elven fashion.

  “Yes, it truly is,” he agreed.

  “My father helped build it,” she stated proudly.

  “He is to be congratulated.”

  “Did you come to worship?” she asked.

  Linis smiled. “No. I’m afraid not.” He noticed a slightly disappointed look on her face. “Though I would very much like to see the rest of it when I have the time.”

  Her expression brightened. “The doors are always unlocked,” she informed him. “Not like the human temples. You can go inside anytime you wish. I can show you now, if you like.”

  “As tempting as it is, I have business.”

  Her disappointed look returned. “So few of us take time to come here. It makes me wonder why we bothered to build it in the first place.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Such a place is sorely needed.”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps. But I see our kind entering the temples of the ten gods far more frequently than they visit here.”

  The ten gods.

  Linis almost laughed. Darshan…he was the tenth. A thought then occurred. “Are you familiar with all the temples?” he asked.

  “Somewhat. My father does work in most of them. I help from time to time when he needs me.”

  “What about the temple of Saraf?”

  She looked as if she had just tasted something foul. “A strange lot. Since Saraf’s appearance, they’ve become a touch fanatical. Not in a dangerous way, I suppose. But they do wander the streets preaching to everyone that the end of time is coming unless we change our lives and follow Saraf’s teachings.”

  Linis frowned at her. “Not dangerous? That is exactly how danger takes root. Tell me, is anyone allowed entry to their temple?”

  “Why would you want to go there?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  The girl shrugged. “I think they would probably let you in. But be prepared for a sermon.”

  “Is there a way in that is…lesser known?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t want to be doing that. Breaking into a temple is a serious crime. Besides, the rear entrances are just as well guarded as those in the front.”

  “I see.”

  He considered what he should do. Incapacitating the guards was an option, though not a very good one. If he was wrong and Jayden wasn’t being held there, he could easily find himself in a whole mountain of trouble. And given the urgency of what they needed to accomplish, being locked up in a prison cell was the last thing he needed.

  The girl must have seen something untoward in his expression. “Has something bad happened to you?” she asked.

  Linis smiled. “No. Nothing you need concern yourself about. I will just knock on the door, I suppose.” He bowed to the girl. “I promise to visit your temple as soon as I can.”

  She bowed in return. “Lady Zarhari is the high priestess. When you arrive there, say that Feyla, daughter of Prustanis, sends her greetings. That should at least get you an audience. She is a decent enough woman.”

  “Thank you,” Linis said. “I am in your debt.”

  He had heard the name Prustanis before. If it was the same person he was thinking of, he had been a significant part of the rebellion that had sought to kill Gewey and Kaylia. The elf must have had a change of heart. Or at the least, come to accept the ways of the new world.

  Linis resumed walking until reaching the steps of Saraf’s temple. Feyla watched him for a time, then walked slowly away with eyes downcast. If what she had told him about her father’s creation was true, then it was a great pity. Elves should regularly visit such places lest they forget their history and culture. The Creator Herself needed no worship. But elf temples had typically been places of reflection and learning. It was hard to imagine his kin frequenting the temples of the gods instead.

  Just a low wrought-iron fence clearly meant for decoration and not security surrounded the grounds of the temple he now faced. Four guards talking quietly amongst themselves were standing just inside. On seeing Linis approaching, a young man with a red sash stepped forward.

  “Are you intent on entering?” he asked. His tone was stern, though not threatening.

  Linis nodded. “I am.”

  “Very well. It is rather late for prayers, but someone should still be up and about.”

  With no more said, the guard waved him through.

  Linis was amazed at how easily they let him pass. Then again, he often found it difficult to understand the new way of things. While moving through the grounds, he recalled a conversation he’d had with Gewey upon his return from a trip to Althetas.

  “Ten men with hate in their hearts can feel like a thousand when they scream loud enough,” he’d said. “A stranger would think the west was in the midst of civil war, when in reality it’s only a handful of the ignorant causing problems.”

  “You can’t expect things to change quite so rapidly,” Linis had told him. “People are stubborn. Those of us who fought together have a different perspective. Most didn’t fight; most only witnessed the carnage. They didn’t form the bonds as we did.”

  “Or fall in love with elves,” Gewey added, forcing a smile. “It’s just that I had hoped things would be better. There are times when I look in the eyes of someone and see the hatred they carry, and it makes me wonder…”

  “Wonder what?”

  “If the Dark Knight wasn’t right all along.”

  “Are you mad?”

  Gewey laughed. “Don’t misunderstand me. His solution was wrong. All the same, he could see the weakness in humans. He could see their flaws clearly.”

  “Yes, and he sought to slaughter them for it. The elves too.” He placed a hand on Gewey’s shoulder. “You may be a god, but you still think like a human. You see the goings-on of the world from the perspective of a single short lifetime. Things are getting better. And as the generations come and go, the world for which you have laid the foundation will become the one you are hoping for.”

  As he neared the temple entrance, he could still see Gewey’s face in his mind – eyes doubtful, wracked with guilt and disappointment. He tested the door. As he’d expected, it was locked. He banged three times, each blow hard enough to ensure that it was clearly heard. Almost immediately there was a sharp clack of metal and the door swung slowly open, its massive weight moving soundlessly on well-oiled hinges.

  A young man in a long wool nightshirt and close-cropped red hair poked his head out. “Yes. Can I help you?”

  “I was hoping to speak with Lady Zarhari.”

  The man frowned. “It is late, and the high priestess has retired for the evening. You are free to try again in the morning.” He began to shut the door, but Linis’s hand shot out to stop it.

  “Please. It’s urgent. Could you tell her a friend of Feyla, daughter of Prustanis, is calling?”

  He clearly recognized the name. After a moment, he let out a sigh. “Come on, then. I’ll tell her you’re here, though I doubt she’ll see you.”

  Linis stepped through the door and into a massive gallery supported by three rows of columns. In the very center of this was a fountain of pure gold, with a prominent statue of Saraf sitting at its hub. Along the walls he could see carved reliefs depicting various ocean creatures and monstrous storms, while at the far end stood a ceremonial altar. This was covered in offerings of fruits, silks, and a hodgepodge of trinkets left by the faithful in the hope of gaining the god’s favor.

  He followed the man to the far ri
ght end, where a broad archway led through to a series of halls and chambers, each of them boasting a variety of masterful artwork. The refreshing smell of salt air was everywhere, giving visitors the impression of being beside a churning sea, its spray bearing the primal yet pleasing perfume of Saraf’s domain.

  There were still a few people about, though they had all shed their robes in favor of nightshirts similar to the one worn by his guide. Linis took careful note that those he passed appeared somewhat uneasy, eyeing him with a hint of trepidation. Of course, it could be due to nothing more than the sight an armed elf walking their halls in the middle of the night.

  On the other hand...

  He was taken to an antechamber and told to wait there in one of the available chairs. Once seated, he allowed the flow to course through him in order to enhance his hearing. As suspected, most of the voices he was able to make out were speaking of his unusual arrival, together with a few complaints as to the lateness of the hour.

  It was not often that he used the flow these days. When he and Dina first arrived in Sharpstone, Kaylia had given him instruction in how to increase his abilities. But it began to feel rather pointless after a year or so. He rarely hunted, and his fight on the road to Baltria had been the first time since the war that he had drawn blood. There was an uncomfortable truth to face: calling himself a seeker was no longer accurate. He was a farmer. How many times would he need to remind himself of this before his heart finally accepted it? Once he had been feared and respected by countless elves. Now he was just another member of the community trudging his way through life. He shook his head, scolding himself yet again.

  You have been around humans too much, he thought. Childish pride and the need for fame is not worthy of…

  Not worthy of a seeker. That’s what he’d been about to think.

  He grunted sourly. Why did this feeling continue to plague him? He was happy. And in Sharpstone he had friends, peace, and most important of all, the woman he loved. He did not miss the conflict and danger. Nor did he miss constantly evading death at the hands of his foes. He could say those things and feel totally secure in his own honesty.

  Then what was it? What was wrong with him?

  A door opened and a woman in a long blue cotton robe and silk slippers stepped out. At once he was on his feet as a sense of the familiar washed over him. She was an elf. The high priestess of Saraf…an elf! Her dark hair and copper complexion reminded him of Kaylia, as did her confident strides and intense gaze.

  “You are surprised?” she asked, her face expressionless and her posture rigid.

  “Indeed,” he admitted. “Please forgive me.” He bowed. “My name is Linis.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Truly? The seeker? Then I am surprised as well. And most pleased to meet an elf of such renown. Your exploits are well known.”

  He smiled. “That was a long time ago. I live a simple life now.”

  “Is that so? No more chasing around the wilderness? How sad.” She turned to the door. “Come. Join me for a drink, and you can state your business.”

  Without thinking, he simply followed, transfixed by her fluid, confident movements. They made their way down a short corridor, then turned into a comfortable parlor where a set of chairs and a plush sofa had been placed in front of a welcoming fire. An elegant desk stood at the far end of the room, along with several bookcases and cabinets that were unmistakably elf-made. After offering him a seat, she poured them both a cup of wine.

  Her expression softened as she sat down across from him. “Now, what is it I can do for you? Jerrod tells me you know Feyla.”

  Linis had almost forgotten the urgency of his visit. It now came back to him with a rush. “Not exactly,” he said. “I just happened to meet her shortly before coming here. She suggested that I use her name to gain an audience.”

  She took a small sip of wine. “That being the case, I take it your need is great. Seekers are not known for subterfuge.”

  Linis realized that he had no idea how to broach the subject. He took a long drink, then placed his cup on the side table. “A dear friend of mine is missing.”

  “That is indeed urgent. But why come here? Why not report the matter to the city guard?”

  He thought for several moments, choosing his words carefully before speaking. “I have reason to believe it may have been followers of Saraf who are responsible. I was hoping you could help me divine the truth.”

  Lady Zarhari cocked her head. “Why would my people do anything to your friend?”

  “So you have heard nothing of it?”

  She laughed softly. “Of course not. We are not brigands. All the same, I am curious as to why you would think otherwise.”

  Linis hesitated, but something in her eyes made him want to tell her the truth. “While on the road, we were set upon by men claiming to be followers of Saraf.”

  She breathed a heavy sigh. “Sadly, you are not the first person to make this claim. Nor are we the only temple suffering from such outrageous lies. There are those who do not like seeing the restoration of the temples, and they will do anything to discredit us. However, until now I have not heard reports of anything so disturbing as abduction. I am sorry, but I fear you have been deceived.”

  Linis rubbed his chin. The men they encountered had not been false. Of that he was sure. Even if this temple had no hand in the matter, their attackers had still been followers of Saraf.

  “I can see you doubt me,” she added. “Why don’t you tell me more about what happened? Perhaps I can help you figure out this puzzle…and find your friend.”

  “I wish I could. But there are things I am not free to discuss.”

  “Then I do not see how I can be of help.”

  A strange sensation came over Linis. It was as if something was tugging ever so gently yet insistently at his spirit. He wanted to tell her…tell her everything. Only by the slightest of margins did he manage to hold firm.

  “Can I ask you a question, my Lady?” he eventually said.

  She smiled. “Allow me to guess. You want to know how an elf became a High Priestess of Saraf. Is that correct?”

  Linis averted his eyes, embarrassed for asking so personal a question. “Yes. Obviously, you do not have to answer if –”

  “I do not mind at all,” she cut in. “My ascension to this position was quite recent, actually. As to my reasons for being here, they are not complicated. I truly believe in Saraf and his aspirations for this world. Though I still believe in the Creator, there is nothing in our teachings that forbids me from serving the gods. There is a practical aspect as well. Sadly, the Creator does not let Her will be known to us. The gods do.”

  “Were you amongst those who witnessed Saraf’s appearance at the docks?” Linis asked.

  “I was there, yes.”

  He was having trouble understanding her choices. She was correct in saying that there was nothing strictly forbidding her from serving Saraf. And he supposed it was unavoidable that some elves would choose to worship alongside their human neighbors. He had seen some humans abandon the gods in favor of elf beliefs, so why should it not work both ways? All the same, it did not feel right to him.

  He finished his wine and rose to his feet. “I’m afraid I have wasted your time, my Lady.”

  “Not at all,” she replied. She stood and glided over to the door. “But before you go, there is something I would like you to see.”

  “I’m sorry, my Lady. I must be going. My friend needs me.”

  She gave him a disappointed frown. “Can you not spare me one minute? It would mean a great deal to me if you could see the reason why I am here. I can tell that you disapprove.”

  “No, not at all,” he replied.

  Lady Zarhari smiled warmly. “It’s all right. I understand. I can imagine it being difficult for one like you to bear witness to the changing of the world. A seeker is an elf in its purest form. That is what my father always told me when I was a child.”

  Linis was a little shocked.
Was she right? Was he harboring suppressed feelings of resentment? He didn’t want to believe this, but there was something in her voice…something compelling that made her words seem honest and good.

  As he followed her from the room he realized that he felt a sense of comfort every time he looked at her. “Where are you from?” he asked.

  “The village of Bylanta,” she replied.

  “I have been there many times. Though not in years.”

  “Yes. I remember seeing you there when I was a young woman. You and your seekers dealt with a band of human thieves who had raided one of our grain stores.”

  Linis recalled the event clearly. Shamefully so. The humans were on the brink of starvation and had come across the store by sheer chance. “I regret what happened that day,” he admitted.

  “Do you? Why is that?”

  “They meant us no harm. We had recovered what they had stolen, and yet still we…” His voice trailed off.

  “You killed them all. I know. And now you wish you hadn’t.”

  “They were defenseless. But things were different in those days. Just being a human on elf lands was enough to warrant death.”

  She gave him a sympathetic smile over her shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. As you say, times were different. So, I am sure, were you. The way I remember it, you were considered a hero. We were close to starvation ourselves that winter. Every sack of grain made a difference.”

  Linis sighed. “I try not to remember what I was like back then. My mind was closed and my heart filled with hatred.”

  “You should not think like that,” she told him. “You did what you thought was right. And at the time, it was. The humans you killed would have no doubt done the same to you, given the chance. Don’t forget, the hatred was felt on both sides.”

  “And still is,” he said. “Yet here we both are, among them and unharmed. Could this have happened back then? At the time, I felt no guilt at all, only that I had acted rightly. Instead of mercy, I distributed what I thought to be justice.”